Severus' Very Bad Day
by juxtaposed
Summary: Response to a challenge: OOC Severus. Severus is having a very. bad. day. And he's acting a little...different. Rated for language. Complete.
1. Part 1

AN: _This is response to a challenge issued by Taran of hproundrobin: Write a story with Sev as out of character as you can possibly make him! I'd like the main focus to be Sev, but Harry included is good! The catch is, to find a unique way of explaining it. The other thing about this challenge is, I'd like the stories to be SHORT! No more than 3 chapters._

So, with not further ado and babbling, this here is my story, about Severus, who has been having a very bad day, and is acting a little…**different**… 

Disclaimer: _I own nothing except the –hopefully - "unique" explanation._

**Severus' Very. Bad. Day.**

by **juxtaposed**

Severus Snape was in a very bad mood. And he tried his very best to take it out on everyone around him, his absolute favorite method of dealing with issues. As he stormed down to his chambers, his long, dark hair was pulled back, revealing a worn face, made handsome with rugged features and...a wide smile. He growled cheerful greetings to the amused -but nonetheless still terrified - students littering the hallways as he passed them, his long cloak billowing behind him, black as night, with a large yellow smiley-face on it. He left behind him scores of giggling students, as a loud buzzing spread throughout the corridors about him. 

_Finally_, Severus thought to himself as he approached his doorway. _Somewhere normal_. He breathed a sigh of relief as he flung open his doors to his darkened rooms. "_Illustro cubiculum!_" It was immediately illuminated, and he practically threw himself into his favorite armchair, sinking himself into the rich material. "What in the bleeding hell is wrong with me?" he muttered angrily, one hand coming up to his face to massage the bridge of his nose in frustration.

_Something has gone terribly, **terribly** wrong_.

He couldn't suppress the groan that slipped out of his throat as he looked back on the day. It had started as it usually did on all Monday mornings. He had got up, got ready and made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, before having Double Potions with Slytherin and Gryffindor, something that usually filled him with dread, but he had had a good rest over the weekend, and wasn't deterred. His rest had also left him in a considerably better mood than usual, so he had thought nothing of when a tiny little Hufflepuff first year had ran into him, only to be dismissed with a cool smirk. _I should have picked up that something was off_. He chastised himself, marveling at his obvious oblivion.

It had only been during said Double Potions that he had first noticed that something was amiss. Namely, _he_ was amiss. No matter how hard he tried, he just could _not_ be himself. He was…_nice_. It had generated a small buzz of curiosity when he had looked at Hermione Granger's Melting Mélange, smiled, and told her it was a job well done, and twenty points to Gryffindor! It had sparked a great deal of alarm and confusion when he had grinned at Harry Potter and said the same.

_Dear Merlin, what in Hades' name was I **thinking**_? 

Actually, he knew that one. He had thought, with no small amount of panic, _what the **fuck**?_ Which had slowly progressed onto _what the fuck is wrong with me? _and then, simply,_ I'm fucked._ And he was sure he was - he had been nice to _Gryffindors_, for Merlin's sake. Not only was it uncharacteristic, it was just unnatural. _I, Severus Snape, am not **nice** to **anyone**_, he thought furiously. Especially not to students from his rival house. Hell, he wasn't even nice to his own house students. He was biased, yes. Tolerant, yes. Obliging, yes. But he could count the amount of times he had been actually _nice_ to anyone on one hand.

He groaned again as he recounted the day's events further. After handing out _ridiculous_ amounts of points to all houses – and being completely unbiased, to add insult to injury – he had given them all a wide, cheesy smile, wished them a good day, and – Severus cringed as he thought about it – he had told them all not to bother with their homework since it was such a lovely day and they ought to be out in the sunshine, not stuck in the dungeons like their greasy old Potions Master. They had all laughed good-humoredly (although there were still some terrified-looking students) – including Severus himself.

_I made a joke. About myself. And they laughed. And I laughed **with** them!_ He was mortified, to put it simply. Under normal circumstances, the only jokes he would have ever made would have been sarcastic, caustic remarks about the Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs. And he would never let students laugh in his class, especially at his expense. And he most definitely would _not_ have laughed with them. _I should have hexed them all. Taught them all a lesson. Not giggling like a bloody schoolgirl along with all the bloody brats. So why the hell didn't I?_

He suddenly felt a throbbing headache, and a great need for alcohol in his veins. He waved his arm, and a bottle of Fire Whiskey appeared in front of him, along with a glass. He ignored the glass; instead he picked up the bottle and took a large swig from it, wincing as the burning liquid slid down his throat. _Much better_, he thought, a little more satisfied. But his thoughts returned to the events that had followed, and he couldn't help tilting his head back as he lifted the bottle to his lips, letting a considerable amount of the liquor to flow into his mouth. He swallowed hard, and felt the drink _burn_ its way into his system.

_That really should have been the worst of it_, he thought fiercely. _But no…no…it had to get worse…_ He groaned, the burning sensation of the alcohol meeting his throbbing headache in a spectacular explosion. _It really had to get worse. _As if it wasn't already a complete farce that he had been acting like a…a…_Lupin_, and had seemingly no control over his actions. He had hoped that at least it was restricted to his classes, because while that would be a pain in his arse, he would get a chance to seek retribution later. 

_But of course, that would have been asking for too much, wouldn't it? It would have been too much to ask not to make an **even** bigger arse of myself. It's a cruel, cruel joke by Mother Nature – completely screw with Severus Snape's mind. _He continued to nurse the rapidly-emptying bottle of Fire Whiskey. _I just **had** to be…**sociable**_**.**  

After a disastrous day of teaching Potions to half-wits and incompetents, Severus had hoped to simply disappear to his chambers to pretend he hadn't indeed been nice to all his students. But apparently, Fate wasn't yet completely satisfied. Because after his last afternoon class, after he had cheerfully dismissed his students, he had made the mistake of walking through the overcrowded corridors of Hogwarts while he was still in his unusually affable state. 

He had spotted a small group of young Ravenclaws, giggling as they strolled out to the grounds. And then he had come up behind them, threw an arm around one of the boys, and walked out with them, chatting amiably to the stunned group about the sunny weather they were having. Along the way, as they passed other equally shocked students, Severus had given them all wide grins and a few winks. He had even held up his hand to be slapped – a teenage behavior that he never understood, but had somehow felt the incomprehensible need to emulate. 

Severus downed another shot of his drink. _It really wouldn't be so distressing,_ he mused, _if I were completely unaware of my rather drastic change of mannerisms. At least then I wouldn't know that my actions today were completely…**insane**._ Yes, that was it. He couldn't think of a better word. He was, for all intents and purposes, utterly and completely insane. He debated checking himself into St Mungo's, finding himself thinking that he didn't care if he really was, or not – he would rather be insane than whatever had possessed him to act the way he had. _Possession_, he suddenly thought. _Yes, yes, I've been possessed! That's it, for sure. Why else in hell would I have consciously acted against my wishes?_ For the one thing that truly frustrated him was that the whole time he was handing out points and laughing with the students was that he never actually wanted to. His mind had been screaming at him with a multitude of curses and swears and threats of hexes, but there was just…_something_ that compelled him to continue what seemed to be a campaign for Friendliest Professor of The Year. 

Severus tipped back the almost-empty bottle as he dwelled on this. He mentally scrolled through a list of possible spells, charms, and curses that he might possibly be under. The first thought was, obviously, the Imperius Curse, but he was fully aware of his actions, and he wasn't particularly in a blankly happy mood. He went through a few more, but it all led to the same conclusion – nowhere. None of the spells he knew would cause the effect it was having on him. _Damn it_. He was getting desperate to think of a reasonable explanation for his conduct the whole day. _Surely there must be some kind of…potion!_  He brightened slightly as he found a new list to go through, but his disposition sunk again as he realized that he couldn't possibly have been poisoned – he would have recognized a foreign brew in any of his drinks immediately. _Damn it. Damn it all to hell. _He finished off his bottle of liquor and frowned, but then waved his hand and a new bottle appeared. He uncorked it with a soft _hiss_ and poured it into a glass this time. _No need to drink that much. Things aren't all **that **bad_…

Several empty bottles of Fire Whiskey littering the floor later, Severus was practically dripping off his chair, and still no closer to finding a solution to his conundrum. 

_I'm fucked. I'm so fucking…**fucked**. _

*****

Meanwhile, off in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, four teenagers were huddled together, talking with low voices, but with a lot of excitement and animation. Harry Potter was the center of attention for the small group, but he didn't mind at all, and grinned mischievously as Hermione, Ron and Ginny laughed at his words.

"Poor guy, never knew what hit him…an extra powerful dose of _coactu amicabiliter_ and _facilis_ pixie dust, they only wear off after forty-eight hours…" He chuckled. "He's going to want to kill himself by the time tomorrow is over."

*Latin translations:

_amicabiliter, facilis_ – (two variations of) pleasant

_coactu_ – force, compel

_cubiculum – _chamber

_illustro _– illuminate, light up

AN: _So, my story can either be ended here, or I can carry it on for another one or two chapters. Review and let me know, please? Oh, and I don't speak Latin, so there's a gigantic chance that I've mangled the wonderful language. _


	2. Part 2

AN: _This is response to a challenge issued by Taran of hproundrobin: Write a story with Sev as out of character as you can possibly make him! I'd like the main focus to be Sev, but Harry included is good! The catch is, to find a unique way of explaining it. The other thing about this challenge is, I'd like the stories to be SHORT! No more than 3 chapters._

So, with not further ado and babbling, this here is my story, about Severus, who has been having a very bad day, and is acting a little…**different**… 

Disclaimer: _I own nothing except the –hopefully - "unique" explanation._

**Severus' Very. Bad. Day.**

by **juxtaposed**

Harry Potter was still laughing to himself as he went to bed that night. _Oh, I've really outdone myself this time. Poor Professor Snape_, he thought, a smirk crossing his features. He was still highly amused with the memory of Snape's expressions: the tortured smile, the cheerful grimaces, and his favorite – Snape's utter confusion when he barked out laughs. It had truly been a right treat to have seen his long-suffering professor act _nice_, and – rather literally – grin and bear it.

_That was the best part of the whole prank_, he thought – that Snape had had absolutely no control over his actions. _No, that wasn't **quite** right_, he corrected himself. The best part was that Snape was completely in the dark over what had happened to him – Harry could tell by the look of sheer perplexity gracing the Potions Master's face the whole day that he had no clue what was plaguing him that day. And he could hazard a well-educated fact that it was driving the man crazy not knowing – he had no doubt that the professor, who Harry _begrudgingly_ had to admit was indeed a very intelligent man, had surely gone through all possible charms and potions. But that was the brilliance of his prank – he had been wise enough to avoid such blatant sources. Instead, he had spent quite a great deal of time researching – and then developing – the extremely potent method of pixie dust; virtually undetectable and so obsolete that it was almost never even thought of.

And really, it had been quite simple to pull off. Well, not _simple_. Pixie dust was _bloody_ difficult to make – even Hermione had been extremely impressed when Harry told her he had made it himself – and took _ages_; he had spent a good part of three months to do so. But once that little obstacle had been taken care of, all he had left to do was get said pixie dust on Snape – another giant hurdle in itself, normally.

Except that Harry wasn't normal.

He _did_, after all, have a great number of willing would-be accomplices and resources. Namely, he had Dobby the House-Elf, and his invisibility cloak. So, sacrificing himself for one night, he had caused a spectacular explosion in the Potions lab, which had, in turn, caused Professor Snape to immediately yell out "Fifty points from Gryffindor, Potter, and detention with me tomorrow night!" – something Harry, for once in his life, had hoped would happen.

And something, had he known the repercussions of doing so, Snape would _deeply_ regret.

Later that night, Harry had carried out his diabolical scheme. He had snuck out to the kitchens, where he had quickly given Dobby a very simple and bare explanation of his plan, simply outlining Dobby's role in the whole shebang. Dobby had immediately burst into tears, howling that "Harry Potter was such a brave boy, Dobby knew, but also is he being smart and he is asking Dobby to be helping him, Dobby is not worth such an honor that Harry Potter is giving Dobby!" - and, as he had said all that in one breath, Harry had briefly worried if House-Elves could pass out from a lack of oxygen.

The next night, Harry was serving detention; the whole time, he had had to suppress a grin that was liable to appear as he thought about what would happen. When he was dismissed, he ducked out into the corridor, and took a quick look around. Assured that there was no one else there, he hurriedly put on his Invisibility Cloak and snuck back into the lab. He glanced at the clock and held his breath, if things were running according to schedule, Dobby would have stolen all of the Potions Professor's robes by now, and he was due to appear in the lab in exactly _three, two, one_…

**CRACK**! ****

Dobby suddenly appeared in the lab, suspended in mid-air for a second, before dropping to the floor in a roll that threatened to take down Snape, who was right in his path. But, possessing admirable instinct, Snape swiftly dodged to the side. However, that didn't stop Dobby from barreling straight into his cauldron – which then tipped over, emptying its contents on a _very _disgruntled Potions Master, as his robes began to smoke. Swearing in a proficiency that had left Harry gaping in shock, he had shrugged off his robes, chucking them at Dobby as he stalked off to his adjourning chambers, ordering the House-Elf to get it cleaned. Dobby had done so; then laid the robes on the bench as Harry had instructed him to, and after glancing anxiously around the room, disappeared.

Harry had promptly sprinkled the pixie dust in _liberal_ amounts all over the black robes, and then muttered a spell, which made the robes glow brightly for a few seconds. Thankfully, it died out just in the nick of time – the professor let out a yell and promptly marched back into the lab a moment later. Harry backed away silently to the door, hearing Snape mutter something about inane House-Elves choosing the worst days for laundering, before he growled and reached for the spelled robes. Harry grinned to himself as he slinked back out of the lab, holding back a rush of mirth and triumph until he was a safe distance away. There, he threw off his cloak and let out a burst of laughter; effectively startling a little first-year Hufflepuff who had just made her way into the corridor and promptly scampered away after looking at Harry like he was insane.

This only served to amuse him, and he had returned to the dorms that night with gleeful anticipation of the coming day…and he was not disappointed. It had been _brilliant_. It had been obvious – to him, anyway – that Snape was suffering marvelously, completely in the dark about his predicament. It was an all-time highlight when Snape had cheerfully awarded points, not only to Hermione, but Harry himself. Harry knew it was killing the man, he could see the blazing reluctance in his eyes, even as he had that ridiculous grin plastered to his face. But that only made it that much better, of course.

_Yes, that was definitely the best part of the prank_, he mused with a wicked grin. Snape's ignorance regarding the cause of his condition. That, and Snape's ignorance regarding the identity of the person who caused it. And it wasn't only Snape, but everyone else – he hadn't even told Ron, Hermione or Ginny of his plans. He didn't want to risk getting them into trouble, so he had done everything by himself, even snuck out after hours to the library for research. But when it had happened, he found he couldn't keep it to himself, he was too filled with pride of his accomplishment, especially after Ginny had remarked that whoever had managed to make Snape civil ought to have an Order of Merlin, First Class. Then, he had dragged the three over to a private corner and regaled them with the truth.

At first, Ron had been a bit put out that he hadn't been involved, but quickly got over it and congratulated Harry on a prank well done – "Ah, times like these I almost wish I had taken Potions", he had commented, causing Harry to grin sardonically while Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes disbelievingly. Ginny had been utterly delighted – with both Harry's propensity for pranking as well as the fact that he had gotten _Snape_ – and vowed to write to Fred and George about it. Hermione had, initially, been rather disapproving, but she was won over by the cleverness of the whole thing, although she did let out a sigh as she remarked, "If only you put that much effort into your actual _homework_".

Harry couldn't help but chuckle to himself again, even as all his thoughts were lulling him to sleep. As he drifted off, one last drowsy thought flitted across his mind - _The dust won't wear out for another day…I wonder what Professor Snape is going to do **tomorrow**?_

* * *

Severus Snape woke up with a jackhammer in his head, and a wad of wool in his throat. He barely seemed to register that he had not woken up in his bed, but rather, he had been draped over the arm of his couch in a _very_ uncomfortable position. Of course, he took notice of this fact when he tried to sit up and his head swam, while his right arm was at once numb and tingling, and his neck and shoulders felt as though they had been hexed into a lock.

_Oh, fuck_.

* * *

AN: _First, I'd like to thank everybody who read and reviewed the first chapter: _**Jessica, Danielle, lettuce, ash vault rose garden, n0b0dys-ang31, SofiaDragon, Whitethorn, crazley, Someone **and** Sin666_; _**_thank you all **so** much for your kind reviews! I hope you all enjoyed the second installment, and, if you did, may I ask that you review and let me know_? ;) _Thanks again!_

AN: _Okay, now a bit of shameless plugging. If you're bored, check out my other HP fics and let me know what you think of them, please? Thank you!_


	3. Part 3

AN: _This is response to a challenge issued by Taran of hproundrobin: Write a story with Sev as out of character as you can possibly make him! I'd like the main focus to be Sev, but Harry included is good! The catch is, to find a unique way of explaining it. The other thing about this challenge is, I'd like the stories to be SHORT! No more than 3 chapters._

So, with not further ado and babbling, this here is my story, about Severus, who has been having a very bad day, and is acting a little…**different**… 

Disclaimer: _I own nothing except the –hopefully - "unique" explanation._

**Severus' Very. Bad. Day.**

by **juxtaposed**

The day was not looking good for Severus Snape.

He attempted to stretch out, to no avail. The pain in his neck and shoulders flared up, aggravating the horrible pounding in his head. It also didn't help the burning prickle that consumed his right arm. Or the haze that enveloped his vision, stirring up a rush of dizziness. _Or_ the wave of nausea that followed.

_Oh, **fuck.**_

Somehow, he managed to stand up, although he swayed heavily on his feet, then stumbled over to his bathroom, catching himself on the edge of the sink as his legs threatened to give out on him. Turning on the tap at full force, he hastily splashed his face with his good arm, grimacing at the icy-cold water. When his head cleared a little, he glanced into the mirror and started.

_I look like death warmed over. Like I'd been **Avada**'ed and risen from the dead. What the fuck happened to me?_

Suddenly, in a rush, it all came back to him, and he groaned deeply, both from the sudden flood of memories, and the knowledge that the memories brought.

_Oh, of all the fucking things…_he groused to himself. He shook his head in disgust, immediately regretting doing so as he felt the urge to be violently sick. Suppressing the rise of bile in his throat, he stripped down and clambered into his shower, turning the water as hot as it could go. He let out a hiss of relief as the near-scalding water beat down on his knotted muscles, and spent a good fifteen minutes just standing under the showerhead, allowing the water to work out all the numerous kinks in his body. After that, he shampooed and scrubbed himself clean, then toweled off, feeling considerably better.

However, that all went down the drain as he stepped out of the bathroom and caught a glimpse of his clock. He blinked at it in disbelief, rubbing his eyes. No, he hadn't read it wrong. He had overslept.

Severus _never_ overslept.

He growled, rather annoyed at himself. _Although_, he reasoned, _there was a bloody damn good excuse for it._ But he realized, with a sigh, that he had missed breakfast, and would have to ask the House-Elves to bring him some. Snapping his fingers, he didn't have to wait long before a House-Elf appeared in his chambers.

"Yes, how is Master Snape be needing Flippy's help?" she asked him politely.

"I'd like some plain toast, please, and some tea, thank you." He requested his food in a remarkably upbeat tone, which left him frowning as the House-Elf nodded, curtsied, then disappeared. She reappeared a minute later with a tray of his aforementioned food and set it in front of him, and looked at him with – he was delighted to note – a gleam of fear in her eyes. Good to know he still had that effect.

Or not.

"Why, thank you so much. I must say, you House-Elves do remarkable work. Have I ever told you that?" He beamed at her, and she looked utterly scandalized by his words, as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Oh, Master Snape is being too kind, Sir. Flippy is not being worthy of Sir's words, please do not be saying things that are being untrue, Sir." With that, she threw herself down at Snape's feet, banging her head on the floor as a loud sob issued from the Elf.

"But I really did mean it – you all truly do – " Severus paused as – _Flippy, did she call herself?_ – wept uncontrollably. _Why the bleeding hell is she crying like the world is ending? Just because I paid her a compliment – oh, that's right, damn things can't stand it. Have no self-worth whatsoever._ He cleared his throat. "Uh, that's alright then, you can go."

Still howling miserably, Flippy disappeared, leaving the very exasperated Potions Professor to sink into his chair, and ponder about the event that had just transpired. He absently picked up a piece of toast and munched on it, taking slight comfort in the fact that he only had two classes in the afternoon that day, and didn't need to deal with too many of those ruddy brats while nursing a bloody hangover.

_Especially, _he thought darkly, _since it appears that I'm still…**nice**._

He swallowed his toast and sipped his tea. He had ordered bland food so as not to provoke his over-acute senses. After all, it wouldn't do for the students to witness their professor suffering from what had to be the World's Worst Hangover. As he stared down intently at his cup, he made up his mind.

_Fuck that._

_I need another drink._

It was a very inebriated Potions Master that stumbled into class that day.

That night, Severus Snape was back in his chambers, _slightly_ more sober, and once again reflecting on the horrible day he had just lived.

If he had thought that the day before had been his worst day ever, he had been sorely, sorely, _sorely_ mistaken.

_I'll never live it down_.

Not only had he been completely thrashed when he was teaching, causing him to slur his words, and nearly cause an accident of Longbottom proportion, but it seemed that drunkenness combined with his false goodwill was a very undesirable combination. He had found himself telling incredibly lame jokes, then laughing stupidly after. And he had also made _several_ **_very_** inappropriate comments.

Of course, the most inappropriate comment by _far _that he had made that day _had_ to be to who else, but one Harry Potter.

Severus cringed.

_I didn't even have a class with the damn brat today!_ he thought furiously. _Why did I have to venture out to the damn Quidditch pitch?_ He knew very well why, of course – he had again decided to "hang out" with some unfortunate students. Serves me right, he scowled. Because of his inability to squash his impulse, he had found himself watching the Gryffindor Quidditch team's practice. 

And had subsequently found himself watching Harry Potter.

Under normal circumstances, he knew that in any encounter with the Potter brat, despite it raising his blood pressure, he at least always had the upper hand of being a Professor, and one who was greatly feared, at that. But today had hardly been _normal_. Today, he had been a _very_ drunk professor who had no control over his actions.

Which was why, when Potter had passed him on his way back into the castle, he had not made an about face and simply ignored the boy, but had instead given him a wide grin.

Which was why, when Potter had greeted him politely, but stiffly, he had not sneered or made a single snide comment about the Gryffindor brat, but had instead returned the greeting with much exuberance.

Which was why, when Potter had had the audacity to smirk at Severus' uncharacteristic behavior, he had not told him off and threatened to take points away from Gryffindor, but had instead leaned in close to the boy and murmured into his ear in a ridiculously suggestive manner.

_"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."_

Severus was feeling rather faint as he recalled that particular snippet of conversation.

His life, as he knew it, was really, and truly, over.

FIN

AN: _Yes, I'm aware the ending kind of hangs, but it's for three reasons. One, part of the challenge was to keep it short; two, I'm planning a sequel to this; and three, I decided to keep the focus of this solely on the OOC-ness, since that **was** the challenge._

AN: _Thanks to **J Black, ShrineMaiden, MysticStampede, Mystic Dragonsfire **and **SofiaDragon **for your kind, kind words! Hope this lived up to your expectations!_


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